No More Games
by Natalie3
Summary: Pippin sulk- uh, I mean, contemplates.


Okay, this story was semi-inspired by a poem written by Mainecoon. I've included some of the poem here. She's an awesome writer; I highly recommend reading more of her stuff, especially if you like this poem.  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine, Tolkien's. Life is harsh.  
  
  
  
  
  
No More Games  
  
  
In winter when the Shire was white  
With sparkling snow, I used to play.  
When I with my companions fought,  
Our swords were sticks, our battles gay.  
  
Our laughter was our battle cry,  
Then when we tired, we used to talk  
Of restlessness that bid us all  
Go on another endless walk.  
  
And when at last the winds blew cold,  
The sunlight turned to starry blue,  
We huddled close and trudged on home,  
Forgetting all the day's to-do.  
  
But now there is no end of day,  
No fire and tea to find back home.  
I almost miss the restlessness  
And wonder why I chose to roam...  
  
  
  
Pippin sat up in his sleeping roll and shook of the remnants of his dream. He rubbed his eyes and gazed out over the embers of the fire that rested in the midst of the Fellowship. Shapeless forms huddled in the uncertain half-light. Far from the clearing, Legolas stood as though carved from ivory.   
  
His clear eyes swept over the campsite at the sudden movement. "Go to sleep, little-one," he murmured, turning back to the darkness of the forest.  
  
"What do you think I'm trying to do?" Pippin grouched to himself.  
  
Legolas' lips curved upward in a brief involuntary smile.  
  
Now that he was awake, Pippin truly felt the cold that had inspired his dreams of snowball fights back at the shire. He was also fairly sure that he wouldn't sleep again this night.  
  
He lay back down in his sleeping roll and considered different possibilities for coaxing himself back to dreamland. Counting sheep was out of the question. At a much earlier time in his life, a sheep had mistaken Pippin's curls for a rather tasty patch of grass, and Pippin had never felt quite the same way about them. What other remedies did he know of? He rather suspected that a mug of warm milk would be rather difficult to obtain.  
  
He shivered. It was no use. It was too cold and he was too awake. Besides, the land all around him was bathed in a faint glimmering light. Stars peered down at him with they're unchanging, unblinking eyes. They had shone the night before; they would shine again the next night. And they most certainly didn't care about the fate of middle-earth, and even less about the loneliness of one small hobbit who sought to distract himself from the solitude and the cold.  
  
There was a slight rustling to his left and Merry sat up.  
  
  
"Pippin?" he asked softly. "Are you the one who woke me up with all that tossing and turning of yours?"  
  
The younger hobbit didn't answer, but looked over at him with guilt in his eyes.  
  
"Oh, Pip," Merry sighed.  
  
"Well, I didn't mean to wake you," he protested.  
  
"You never mean to do anything, do you Pip."  
  
"Oh, go back to sleep if you're just going to natter at me," Pippin snuffed.  
  
"Now I'm all awake," Merry replied.  
  
"Well be quiet, or else you'll have all the rest of them awake, and they'll all blame me for it."  
  
"Yes, you're so persecuted."  
  
Pippin rolled over on his side away from Merry. After a moment, a gentle hand ran itself through his hair, and Merry's voice said, "I was only teasing you, Pip."  
  
"Well don't. Go back to sleep and leave me alone."  
  
Merry made no response. He just sat quietly and continued stroking Pippin's hair until his cousin sat up and turned to face him.  
  
"I don't mean to be such a pest, Merry," he said softly.  
  
"You're not."  
  
"Yes I am," Pippin answered still more softly. "I'm always the weakest, the slowest, the dumbest. I'm no good at anything. I'm just a nuisance."  
  
"You're only the dumbest when you say things like that. And anyway, Pip, you're the youngest! And none of us are very good at most of the things someone like Aragorn or Boromir is good at. Why would we be? But we're learning, you as well."  
  
Pippin just shook his head. "But I'm such a klutz. I'm always dropping things, or bumping into things, or just getting in the way."  
  
"Not always, and hobbits can't help getting under foot. That's what happens when we spend time with big people."  
  
"I miss the Shire," Pippin whispered. "I miss understanding everything, and knowing every tree and bush that we pass. I miss the food, and the other hobbits, and our life there." He pulled away from Merry's comforting hand and sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I dreamt I was back there, playing in the snow. You were there too, and all the others. We were throwing snowballs. I got hit, and I slipped in the snow. It was wet and slick, but all of a sudden it wasn't ice or snow anymore. It was blood. I got it all over my clothes and hands, and I couldn't get it off. I yelled for you, but you weren't there..." his voice faded.  
  
"Pip, I will always be with you, I promise," Merry said.  
  
"How long has it been since we've had a snowball fight anyway?" Pippin wondered aloud.  
  
"That all would have changed in any case, Pip. You're nearly grown up now. You couldn't have gone on playing children's games."  
  
"I don't feel nearly grown up."  
  
Merry smiled even though Pippin couldn't see it. "You know what? I'll bet that very few people ever do. Even someone like Gandalf. I'll bet there are times he doesn't want to be the grown up who has to make all the decisions."  
  
Pippin shrugged. "Everything is so...large, and frightening lately. It's hard to get use to."  
  
"We'll get use to it together. Things are never quiet so large and frightening when you have a friend by your side."  
  
"No, and the time always passes a bit faster too. Look." He pointed to where the sun was just beginning to rise. "Good morning, Merry."  
  
"Good morning, Pip. It looks like it's going to be a sunny day."  
  
FINIS  
  
  
  
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